Special Delivery
by Lemon Zinger
Summary: Watson gets ill before he can deliver all the gifts he bought. Now it's up to a certain detective to do it. Merry Christmas everyone! This story is officially dedicated to Azolean. AML. BBA.


**Thank you to Azolean for Beta-ing.**

_This story is being dedicated to Azolean. As the story that she says spurned her AMAZING and HIGHLY RECOMMENDED grief series, this one is for her. She also gave me the best christmas gift anyone could ever ask for. Thank you so much Azolean! _

* * *

"Please?" Watson asked, his eyes pleading from the bed.

I would do almost anything for him; I've even taken a couple bullets for the man, but this I simply _could not _do.

"Holmes?" Watson pleaded, but his voice was hoarse he started coughing.

With practiced gentleness, I slipped my hand under his head and lifted him slightly, bringing a glass of water to his lips. He sipped gratefully and the coughing subsided.

"Why can't it just wait until you're feeling better?" I asked.

He'd gotten a slight case of pneumonia, and I was letting him rest in my room for the duration of his illness.

"You know it could be a week!" he protested.

"That's not that long," I muttered.

"Holmes, please. You know how much the Irregulars look forward to this," he pleaded.

"It's Christmas Eve, Watson! It'll be a nightmare out there!" I was not backing down.

"Fine, if you don't want to go deliver the gifts, I'll just invite everyone here," Watson said.

I envisioned the whole of London—for, I swear Watson bought that many gifts—descending on our peaceful abode.

"I suppose…"

An hour later I was outside with a long list of names and a large bag of gifts. I had only one bag of two, since there was no way I was dragging them both out. Mrs. Hudson had helped me organize my route, so I would get this over with in the timeliest manner possible.

To start was one of the irregular's houses. Bernard was one of four children and Watson had gotten gifts for them all—and their parents. I went up to the door and knocked. Then I promptly slipped on the steps and landed in the snow. Fortunately, the snowfall was quite dense; so I wasn't hurt, just cold.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" I heard a feminine voice cry and I saw a woman running out of the house. "Allen, come quickly!" she called.

A larger man came out and helped me to my feet. "Oh please, come inside and warm up sir. We're so sorry! I've been meaning to get to those steps, but they just got more ice on them overnight."

"It's fine," I replied. I set down the bag and pulled out the right packages. "Watson is ill. He asked me to deliver these."

"Watson got us gifts!" I heard a child cry.

I looked over to see Bernard and three other children flying out of the house. Their parents handed them the packages.

"Can we open them?" Bernard asked. He was the eldest, with two sisters and a little brother.

"Yes you may," his mother told him.

The children tore into the packages and found a book, train, blocks, and a stuffed dog. It was as if I had given them the best gifts they'd ever gotten.

"Thank you so much," Allen said, turning back to me.

"And these are yours," I said, handing them their own gifts.

The mother put a hand to her shaking lips.

_Oh please don't cry._

"Oh Watson is so thoughtful. Did you say he was ill?" she asked.

"Yes, and I have all his deliveries to make," I said, glancing down at the bag. The six gifts did little to lessen the load.

"Well, let me help," Allen said. "After all, if it wasn't for Watson, our children might not be getting any gifts this year."

I was stunned. I hadn't realized Bernard's family had hit upon such hard times. Now I understood why the Missus was crying as she unwrapped a beautiful pink shawl.

"I would be grateful for some assistance," I said.

Allen nodded and went inside to fetch a coat. I noticed it was thin and worn.

"Aren't you going to open your gift?" I asked.

His wife handed it to him and he gently opened it. Inside was a thick scarf. I was glad, since it was cold and we would be out for a long time.

"Can't I come help?" Bernard asked.

"Yes, we want to come too!" Bernard's sister said.

"Alright, grab your things," Allen said.

With that, the four children got their coats; which were far nicer than their father's worn cloth. Their mother opted to remain at home and I didn't blame her.

The next house we stopped at was an elderly patient of Watson's. I rang the doorbell, and a young girl of about thirteen opened the door.

"Yes?"

"I have a gift for a—" I read the package, "a Mrs. Bell."

"Oh, come in," the girl said, motioning us inside.

In the front drawing room a woman sat in a chair. The room was poorly furnished and the fire was dim. Allen leaned down to whisper to Bernard, and the child nodded. He drew his siblings in a whispering conference.

"Here you are, Ma'am," I said, walking over to hand he the package. "It's from Watson."

"Is he here?" she asked.

"No, I'm afraid he is ill."

I heard a gasp from the girl, and I quickly reassured them. "It isn't serious. He will be better in a week."

Suddenly, I heard singing. I looked back and saw Bernard and his siblings gathered to sing. They were singing _Silent Night_, and it was slightly off-key, but Mrs. Bell didn't seem to care. I saw tears of joy sparkle in her eyes, and the young girl soon joined in. Once it was done I looked over at her.

"What's your name?" I asked the girl, looking over my list. Wasn't there a gift for her?

"Katherine," she said. "But Watson calls me Katty."

There she was! "And here's your gift," I said, handing her a package.

For Mrs. Bell, Watson had gotten a snow globe. She was shaking it vigorously and laughing as the snow fell down.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Oh, Grandmother! Look!" Katherine was holding up a new hat with a sprig of flowers on one side. "It's so lovely!"

"Watson is such a kind man. I hate to think of him being ill," Mrs. Bell said ruefully.

"Grandmother, may I go with these gentlemen to help deliver the gifts? I could sing with the other children," Katherine said.

"I think Watson would like that very much. You may go," Mrs. Bell said.

"You will be alright?" Katherine said.

"I think so…" Mrs. Bell said.

"I have an idea," Allen spoke up. "My wife is at home, she could come spend some time with you, Mrs. Bell."

"Oh, that would be lovely! It's been so long since I had visitors. Katherine kindly came to spend the holiday's with me." Mrs. Bell seemed very happy.

Allen returned to fetch his wife and in the meantime the children sang for Mrs. Bell. Once Mrs. Bell and Bernard's mother were settled, we headed off to the next destination.

It was another Irregular's house; and when the two eldest children heard our caroling, they asked to join us. By the time we were done with the first bag, I had delivered thirty presents and we had ten children singing with us. We were making our way back to 221B to get the other bag, when a thought came to me. I ran upstairs to get my violin and paused to check on Watson, who was sleeping soundly.

I returned, and we made our way onwards. The next round of gifts went quickly, as Allen handed out the gifts and I played for the children to sing to. We were drawing an audience as we went even, and I realized how happy all of them were.

When I had first met Watson, I had hated this time of year. It wasn't cheerful. It was a bother. Now, after so long, I was beginning to appreciate it. It was still busy, but this was also when people were at their best. I had spent two sullen Christmases on my own after my confrontation with Moriarty, and they had made me appreciate it all the more that I was surrounded by people who were all touched by the acts of kindness that my fellow lodger seemed so talented at.

Our next stop was at Scotland Yard. They had a Christmas Party every year, and so all of them were gathered. It was a quiet scene until our company burst in.

Allen was swamped with all of the gifts he was giving out. Watson had bought one for a good deal of the Yarders and their families. The children's songs seemed to cheer everyone up, and Lestrade was staring at me as I played along.

"Holmes, are you feeling alright?" he asked as we took a break.

"I am fine. It is Watson who is ill," I said.

"Oh, the poor doctor. Surely there is something we can do?" Gregson spoke up.

"I have an idea…" Lestrade said. I could see the wheels of his mind beginning to turn.

"Alright, we only have one more," Allen said, holding up the package so I could see the name.

_Mycroft._

Oh, how I dreaded that stop.

"Um, perhaps I'd better do this one on my own," I said. "He's not fond of a lot of celebration."

"Oh, all the better!" Lestrade said. "I'll work on our surprise and you go deliver that last gift."

So, in this manner I was sent off while the Yarders organized… whatever they were planning.

I took a cab this time, tired of walking. When I pulled up at his home I sighed. This was going to be an experience.

I walked up to the door and was shown inside by Mycroft's maid. I was told to go on up, since she knew me and knew I was usually here on important business. I never came just to talk or exchange gifts. I found him in his study and entered with the gift hidden behind my back.

"Working on Christmas again?" he asked.

"Well, Watson is ill."

He looked up at me for the first time. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." He looked entirely genuine.

"He's having me deliver gifts for him."

"Gifts?" Mycroft said the word like it was foreign.

With that, I revealed the wrapped package and set it on his desk. He looked at it suspiciously and I stepped back.

"Promise me it isn't one of your tricks?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"I haven't played a prank on you since we were young!" I retorted.

"That's no comfort. I'm sure poor Watson's been the victim of a few," he said, finally unwrapping it.

It was a pen set, very fancy and prestigious. I had no idea where Watson found them, but Mycroft seemed to love them.

"You say he's ill?" Mycroft said, rising.

"Yes, I think the Yarders are planning something. They have about twenty children who have gone around caroling with me and their families."

"You? Caroling?" he asked.

"I played," I said, holding up my violin.

"Ah, good," he said.

He led me out to the front landing and began to get dressed to leave.

"You are going somewhere?" I asked.

"Why, to see Watson, of course. And this 'big surprise' of the Yarders'," Mycroft said.

I wisely chose to hold back my astonishment. We departed and arrived back at 221B.

The street in front of my house looked like a train station, but it was quiet. Lestrade, Bradstreet, Gregson, and Hopkins were giving out orders to smaller groups of people. There were even more children—relations of the Yarders, no doubt—and a lot of others. They were organizing the group, and Mycroft and I just stood there.

"Oh, Holmes! We'll need you over here with the children for when they sing," Lestrade said, waving me over. "Mycroft, go with Hopkins' group."

We exchanged looks and smiles, but took orders.

I'd taken a couple bullets for Watson. Whatever Lestrade had planned would probably hurt less than that. Mrs. Hudson had noticed us, and I had to calm her and warn her to act normal. So she went inside and started preparing cookies for everyone.

Lestrade ushered our group to quietly go into the sitting room with Gregson and Bradstreet's group to follow. Hopkin's group disappeared at some point and I wondered what in the world they had planned.

The sitting room was not large enough for thirty children plus about twenty or so adults, so the adults lined the hallway outside my room. Some of them even gathered on the stairs. Lestrade motioned for me to go inside and rouse Watson. I set my violin down and went in, closing the door behind me quickly so Watson wouldn't see the throngs of people. He was still asleep. How he'd slept through the mass of footsteps on the stairs I didn't know, but part of me didn't want to wake him.

"Watson?" I called.

He stirred. "Hello, Holmes. How did it go?"

"You sent me out in the cold and hustle of Christmas Eve—how do you think it went?" I asked sternly. I couldn't help having a little fun with him.

His face fell. "Sorry, Holmes. I shouldn't have made you go."

"Oh, nonsense. Are you ready for your present?" I asked.

"What?" he asked, his tone wary.

I opened both doors quickly and the crowd burst into_ Silent Night. _I could see Watson was taken by surprise, but it was a happy surprise. I helped him to sit up and then took my place with my violin. We got through two more songs before Hopkins and his team returned, brining a wrapped parcel with them. Everyone wanted to give it to him, but I solved the argument by handing it to him myself. I didn't want anyone else getting sick.

"Merry Christmas," a child said.

"And Happy New Year!" another added.

Watson took the gift and looked around. "Holmes, did you?" He looked at me.

"No, they organized this," I said, throwing my hand in the air to gesture at everyone. "I told them you were ill, and you would have thought it was the worst tragedy since the black plague."

"It is. Because if Watson died, you'd be unbearable," someone shouted.

I couldn't pick out the culprit in the large assembly.

"Yes, and without Watson, we wouldn't have gotten gifts!" one of the children added.

"And he's the best doctor!" someone else called.

Watson was tearing, and I could tell if we didn't lighten the mood he would be embarrassed.

"Are you going to open that?" I asked him.

He laughed. "Very well, I'll open it."

The paper was slowly torn back to reveal a new medical bag. With a glance at the old one nearby, I realized it was the perfect gift for him; regardless that it looked like it cost a fortune.

"I don't know what to say…" Watson said, examining the bag. "Thank you. Thank you all!"

"You are very welcome. And thank you!" Lestrade called out.

"I don't want to seem rude, but I don't want to have to treat all of you for pneumonia when I'm better…" Watson said.

"Right, you've had your fun. Go torment someone else," I called.

Everyone laughed, but they did file out.

"Holmes, I can't believe you," Lestrade said, smiling at me as I followed them down.

Mrs. Hudson was handing out cookies as they departed.

"What?" I asked, totally clueless about what Lestrade was talking about.

"You used to despise this season," Gregson said.

"I still think the weather is miserable," I said.

"But, you just let around fifty people invade your home to sing carols," Lestrade said.

"For Watson, I would do anything," I replied firmly.

"Well, I'm sure he's grateful," Lestrade said. "That was a good show, Holmes."

"Keep us posted about his condition," Gregson said, waving goodbye as they left.

"I will," I said, shutting the door.

_Finally, peace and quiet!_

I went upstairs and nearly let out a sigh when I found Mycroft was still there, chatting with Watson.

"Oh, hello, Holmes. Are they all gone?" Watson asked.

"They were given the choice of leaving or remaining to listen to him sing," Mycroft teased, "and promptly fled the premises."

"That is not funny. I sing just fine," I said, sitting with a moue on my face.

"Did everyone like their gifts? Nothing got broken did it?" Watson asked.

"Yes, yes, it went fine," I reassured him.

"Good." He settled back with a contented look on his face.

"Well, I'll let you rest. Keep my brother out of trouble, if you can."

"That is a full time job. I may require backup," Watson said, closing his eyes.

I snorted.

"I'll keep Lestrade on alert. Farewell, you two," Mycroft said, leaving.

Now finally I have peace and quiet.

"Holmes?" Watson called.

"Hm? Do you need something, old fellow?" I asked.

"I just wanted to say thank you again. You didn't have to do all that."

"It wasn't my idea."

"No, but you didn't have to go deliver those gifts. If you hadn't, the day wouldn't have been so grand."

"Just rest, you need your sleep," I said, rising.

"Where will you be?" he asked, looking over as I reached the door.

"Right back," I said.

I rang for Mrs. Hudson and ordered the biggest dinner I'd had in a long time, and brought in my violin.

"My singing is obviously not up to standards, but would you mind if I played?"

"No, please do," he said.

He drifted to sleep by the sounds of a dozen of his favorite songs. I didn't really want to play any more carols, but I invented a new version of _Silent Night_ for him. The night wore on and just before midnight I roused him again.

"Hmm? What time is it?" he asked, not fully awake yet.

"Nearly midnight. Merry Christmas," I whispered.

"Have you been awake this whole time?" he asked.

"Yes," I admitted.

I rarely slept when Watson wasn't well. He seemed to know it and even if he didn't like it he accepted it.

"Well, Merry Christmas. Your gift is under my bed," Watson said.

"Should I open it?" I asked.

"Suit yourself," Watson said.

With moderate excitement, I went to fetch it and also grabbed the one I had gotten for Watson.

"Open yours first," I said, setting it on his lap.

"I just opened one. You go first."

We stared at one another, trying to bend the other to our will. In the end he won out.

"Very well…" I said, tearing open the package.

Within was a new beaker set to replace the one I had blown up in the previous summer.

"Thank you, dear Watson," I said. "Now your turn."

Watson smiled and opened his. It was only a new gray derby, but he smiled at it and tried it on.

"I like it," he said.

"You don't intend to wear it to bed I hope?" I asked.

"Well, no, but I could do this," he said, leaning the hat down to cover his eyes.

"You look ridiculous," I snorted.

He laughed, took it off and set it on the nightstand.

"So what can you deduce about the man that wears that hat?" he asked, bringing back memories of a Christmas case. The carbuncle was still in my possession.

"He is very special," I said.

"That is all?" Watson asked.

"What more can I say? Words couldn't do you justice," I replied.

We lapsed into a warm silence, enjoying the stroke of twelve. It was a touching Christmas.

One I won't soon forget.

* * *

_This is a holiday I will not soon forget either..._


End file.
